The Hating Game

“Easy. Blue.”

“What kind of blue?”

“Bedroom blue!” I point at the wall. “The walls. Your shirt. My dress. Pale Tiffany blue.”

He tugs me to sit, then goes to the end of the bed. He opens his wardrobe door, and I see all of the shirts hanging in color sequence.

“Josh, you dork.” I start to laugh and point, but he grabs my ankles and drags me to the end of the bed. There’s a full-length mirror, and I see myself, at long last sitting on the bed in his robin’s-egg bedroom. His walls are the blue of my eyes. I’ve been a bit slow.

“But that’s the prettiest blue in the world!”

“I know. Good lord, Lucinda. I thought I’d be busted the moment you saw this room.”

He sits on the bed behind me, one knee up, and I fall back into the perfect cradle of his body.

“How somebody can’t recognize their own eyes, I’ll never know.”

“Seems I didn’t recognize a few things. Hey, Josh.”

“Yes, Shortcake.”

“You love me.” I see him smile in our reflection at the confusion and wonder in my tone.

“Since the moment I saw you. Since the moment you smiled at me, I felt like I was falling backward off a cliff. The feeling has never stopped. I’ve been trying to drag you down with me. In the worst, most ill-conceived and socially retarded way possible.”

“We’ve been so awful to each other.” I feel his cringe, and his hands begin to stroke me. “I mean, how can we even begin to start again?”

“Time for a new game. The Starting Over Game.”

I smile. Eyes bright, dazzling, full of hope and certainty this merger will be the most exciting, passionate, challenging thing ever to happen to me. “Nice to meet you. I’m Lucy Hutton.”

“Joshua Templeman. Please, call me Josh.” I see the blinding flash of his smile in return, and now I’m properly crying. Tears running down my neck.

“Josh.”

“Sounds like heaven coming out of your mouth.”

“Josh, please. We’ve been colleagues for one minute, you’re rather flirtatious. Let me hang my coat.”

He unclips my bra. “Allow me.”

“Thank you.” We are playing the Staring Game in the mirror, and his eyes begin to darken. He fills his hands with my white skin.

“I grew up on a strawberry farm. It’s named after me.”

“I love strawberries. I’m so lovesick, I eat them constantly. Can I nickname you Shortcake? It’ll be a dead giveaway that I love you.”

“You love me! We’ve only met a minute ago.”

“I do. I’m sorry, but I work fast. I hope it’s not too forward of me to say, but your eyes are incredible, Lucy. I die when you blink.”

“You’re smooth. What do you know. I love you too. So much. Every time your dark blue eyes hit me, I feel like I get a mild electric shock.”

I reach behind me to tug off his T-shirt. He helps me out and pulls it off.

“I’ve been wondering since I met you—granted, only minutes ago—what you’ve got under this shirt. My goodness, your body. But I want you for your mind, and your heart. Not this impressive disguise.”

He looks at the ceiling. “I think I’ll paint my bedroom this weekend. I’ll probably feel annoyed the whole time I do it. And I’ll happily farewell my current girlfriend, a tall boring blonde called Mindy Thailis. She’s not you and it eats me up. It makes the fact I sleep alone and desperately celibate in this Lucy-blue room even more romantic when I eventually tell you.”